by Amy Brent
“Asshole.” I said, calling it names for good measure. I knew it was crazy but at least it made me feel a little better. The pain receded and my curiosity grew as I pulled the chest closer to me, careful of my feet, as I sat on a stack of boxes behind me.
Slowly, I popped open the lid. The hinges creaked loudly from years of disuse but it held together as I let the lid fall back and peered inside at its contents. It looked like was full of old shoe boxes but as I pulled one out and opened it up, I gasped at the treasure trove that I found inside.
There were pictures. Hundreds of pictures, taken from an old polaroid mostly, and yellowed and faded with age but being trapped up in the trunk had protected them from the worst of the elements.
I shuffled through them wide-eyed, drinking in photos of my grandparents, who I had never really known. My breath stalled in my chest when I got to photos of my mother as a child, sitting on her father's knee. Looking so young and innocent and happy that it broke my already bruised heart.
That was a woman that I’d never known. My mother had never been young or innocent and as far as I knew, the only time she was happy was when she was deep in the drugs. My fingers traced the child’s smile face as sadness filled me. But it was a distant sort of sadness. A regret for the person she might have been if life had been different, if she’d made different decisions.
I set the photo aside, placing it gently like it was made of the most fragile porcelain before looking through the rest of the box. I stopped when I got to one photo at the bottom and pulled it out with trembling hands.
There was a young Jonah, sitting on an overstuffed brown armchair, and in his arms, he held a little baby wrapped tightly in a pink blanket. Me.
Jonah smiled proudly at the camera as he held me carefully in his lap, protecting me even then. From the very first.
Like a tidal wave, regret and misery rushed through me, threatening to pull me under as my eyes filled with tears and for the first time, I didn’t fight them. I let them go, drop by drop until all I could see was a blurry outline of the photograph.
For the first time, I let myself cry. Grieving for the parents I’d lost, but never really known. For the love that I’d tasted for such a short time. For the life growing inside me and the fear that I would never be enough to love the baby the way it deserved, the fear that I would fail as a mother. And for my big brother. The one I could always lean on. The one who had always been there. And how much it hurt that he’d lied and betrayed me. And damn it, how much I missed him.
I cried for all of those things, but most of all I cried for myself. Finally letting myself feel, no longer terrified of my emotions, letting it all pass through me as I sat alone in the dusty attic and sobbed until I didn’t have any tears left to cry.
***
Jonah
I don’t know how long I sat in the driver’s seat of my truck, just staring at the Mayhew house. I lost track of time as I looked at the brand new patched roof and the windows, no longer gaping holes with broken glass like sharp teeth. Now, lights glowed merrily from within in a house that hadn’t seen any sort of light in over two decades.
The front porch had been torn down and built back up, sturdy and simple but painted a cheerful, inviting shade of blue-green that mimicked the colors of the tree line that led to the Coral Springs themselves.
I could almost hear the babble of the springs if I listened hard enough, a pleasant soundtrack to the miracle of changes Quinn had made on the unrecognizable property. My gaze caught on the newest addition. A big sign to the side of the long, gravel driveway that welcomed guests to the Mayhew Bed and Breakfast.
It was bittersweet, seeing the Mayhew name emblazoned on that sign. It made sense, the old ranch property had been known as the Mayhew house for as long as I could remember, for as long as my grandfather had lived there which as far as I could tell was just about forever.
But it was also my mother's name, our mother's name. Our parents had never married, content to waste their lives wallowing in a drug-induced haze, oblivious to the rest of the world. To us.
I let out a sharp breath. I had spent so many years protecting Quinn, keeping her away from the worst things life had to offer that it had become more of a habit than anything else. It had taken me a while to realize, and a while to get over the anger after our argument, but she’d been right. I was more than happy to cast myself in the role of rescuing knight, slaying whatever dragons I could find. But Quinn sure as hell was no damsel in distress. She didn’t need a knight. She needed a brother.
That’s what had led me back to this driveway even after I’d sworn up and down to myself that I would just leave Quinn to starve if that’s what she wanted. My conscious wouldn’t let me, though. I had fucked up. Bad. And it was about time that I made it right. As right as I could anyway.
It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, force my fingers to reach for the handle of the door and push it open. Stand to my feet, putting one in front of the other as I walked up to the newly renovated porch.
She really had done an amazing job turning the crumbling old farmhouse into a quaint, inviting bed and breakfast. She’d done more than I ever would have thought possible in the six months I’d given her to work on it.
I walked inside for the first time in weeks and my eyes went wide in surprise. As different as the outside looked, the inside was like night and day. It didn’t even look like the same dated old dilapidated house I remembered from my childhood.
Quinn had been too young when our grandfather had died to remember but I did, like a dream, in vague flashes of brown shag carpeting and scratched wood paneling. Peeling linoleum tiles and the ever-present smell of mothballs.
It took me several minutes to get over my awe at the changes Quinn had wrought to realize that she wasn’t on the main floor. I peeked into the kitchen and the office, with its small apartment attached, but she wasn’t there either.
I made my way upstairs, glancing into the bedrooms but I walked down the hall and saw the stairs to the attic had been pulled down and a single lightbulb illuminated the opening. I walked forward, my feet on the first step and opened my mouth to call up to Quinn and apologize but a noise caught my ear, silencing me before I could speak.
She was crying. Not just crying, but sobbing, soul-deep sobs that tore at me, freezing me there halfway up the stairs. Guilt swamped me. I knew why she was crying. It was because of Leo. She really did love him, and remembering the heart broken look on his face when I'd lied to him about Quinn seeing someone else, maybe he loved her too.
Damn, I really fucked this one up. I thought to myself, still not moving. The last thing in the world I wanted was to hurt Quinn, but I’d ended up doing just that. A mere apology wasn’t going to fix this.
I crept back down the stairs, not saying anything. I didn't know what to say that would make it right. I turned, the sound of Quinn's sobs still echoing down the hallway, following me as I walked back outside leaving her alone with her tears.
I leaned one hip against my truck, digging out my cell phone. I hated that I was wrong. I hated that I had to do anything at all to get Leo and my sister back together, but she was right. It was her life to live. She had to make her own choices, and as much as I hated it, I knew exactly what I needed to do next.
My stomach twisted into knots as I dialed the phone number I knew by heart and held the phone to my ear, waiting breathlessly as the call rang through. It felt like a million years, listening to the ring, waiting. Waiting.
“Why are you calling me, Jonah?” The all too familiar, sultry as sin voice answered knocking the little breath I had left from my lungs.
“Sabrina,” I exhaled her name like a prayer, “I know you told me not to call you.”
“No, I told you to go rot in hell, Jonah Moore.”
I let out a rough chuckle at the fierceness in her voice. “I know that too, but this is important. I need a favor.”
“Forget it, Jonah.”
“Please, it�
��s not for me. It’s for Quinn. It’s for my sister. I need you to find someone for her.” Sabrina Cole was the best private detective in the state, and she also hated my guts. But if someone or something needed to be found, she would damn well find it. She was like a bloodhound. Once she caught the scent of something, you had no chance of escaping her. I had learned that lesson the hard way.
“His name is Leo. Leo Delaney. And he’s the father of Quinn’s baby.”
“Missing?”
“Something like that.” I tried to explain, “It’s complicated.”
“Everything is always complicated for you, Jonah.” Sabrina said over the phone and then let out a sign that I knew meant defeat, “Fine. I’ll find this Leo Delaney for you. I’ll call you in a few days to let you know where he is.”
“That’s great. Thank you, Sabrina. I really owe you one this time. Maybe I can repay you with a drink sometime–.” I was cut off by the dial tone. She’d already hung up.
Chapter 30
Quinn
“Damn it!” I sucked my thumb into my mouth as a sharp pain rattled up my entire arm, originating from the digit I’d just smashed with the old hammer I’d found amongst the myriad of other tools in the basement of the Mayhew house.
“Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!” I repeated, hoping the swearing would make me feel better but I still felt the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes. And I knew damn well it had nothing to do with the damn hammer that I’d hit my thumb with or the damn bruise I was going to have because of it.
It had been almost a week since I’d seen or spoken to Jonah. A week that I’d been camping out in my makeshift apartment downstairs. A week since my life had seemed to take its last gasping breath before giving up entirely.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Quinn Moore,” I chastised myself sternly, speaking out loud to the empty room as I glared at the nail I’d been trying to hammer in. “I am working hard, and getting closer and closer to making this place a reality.” I glanced around the bedroom, a happy shade of pale teal that made me feel instantly calmer.
“I got this.” I nodded firmly, trying to make myself believe it, “I so totally got this.”
“Talking to yourself now, huh? I’ve heard that a side effect of pregnancy.” Lily said, grinning at me from the open doorway. I groaned as I saw yet another cup of tea held in her hands. She seemed to think that all I needed was to drink enough green tea and everything would be fine.
“Really? I’ve heard it’s a side effect of too much tea-induced insanity.”
“That’s not a real thing.” Lily snorted, still managing to hand me the tiny porcelain teacup despite the hammer clenched in my hand. “You know what is a real thing though?”
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me," I said with a roll of my eyes, taking an unconscious sip of the hot liquid more from habit than anything else and nearly spit out the bitter taste.
“Of course I’m going to tell you. Because I’m your best friend. You’re talking to yourself because you feel guilty.”
“Guilty!” I said on a snort of disbelief, “Guilty for what?”
“You feel guilty for the way things happened with Jonah.”
I shot Lily a hard look, “What do I have to feel guilty about, he’s the one who messed up.”
“You feel guilty because he’s your brother,” She shrugged, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “You guys have always taken on the world together and you feel guilty because now, you’re not.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I was so surprised by her words that I took another sip with meaning to. Hastily, I put the cup down before I could be tricked into drinking the whole damned thing. “If anyone should feel guilty, it’s Jonah. I don’t feel guilty for not talking to him. There is absolutely nothing I want to say.”
“Sure there is, he’s your brother. That’s never going to change.” Lily shrugged again and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“Did you just come here to lecture me? Because I’ve still got a lot of work to do and this isn’t helping me get any of it done.” I hated the sharp tone in my voice. I didn’t want to chase Lily off but I was still sore about what had happened with Jonah. Like a bruise that still hurt whenever I poked at it too hard.
But instead of running away, she just sent me a soft, warm smile. “No, I didn’t come here to lecture. I came here to give you something.”
"Uh-oh. Please tell me it's not one of your potions. I don't think I could stomach that right now." I grimaced as I spoke but she just laughed.
“No, it’s not that. You have to come downstairs though so I can give it to you.”
I looked at her suspiciously, but I was grateful to put down the old hammer and slowly followed her down the stairs. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she pulled me into the bright new kitchen and I was met with a chorus of voices.
“Surprise!”
“Surprise, Quinn!”
“We got you, didn’t we?”
That last was from Charlotte, smiling from behind a mask of pale makeup and dark smoky eyes lined with black. I looked around in shock at all the faces. Standing behind Charlotte was Luke and Danny Brewer, their brother next to them holding up a cake that read ‘Congratulations’ in rainbow colored frosting. Even Finn was there, grinning at me and Lily like a fool, though I had a feeling it was directed more at Lily than at me.
“What is all this?” I finally managed to ask and Lily gave me a tight hug before answering.
“You didn’t think we would let you have this child without a baby shower, did you?”
“You did all this? For me?” I had to choke back tears at the kind gesture and Lily gave me another hug, which didn’t help to stem the waterworks.
I looked around at the group of people, friends that had helped me every step of the way.
“Thank you. Thank all of you, this is…this is incredible.” I let out a watery laugh, but my smile faded as I saw one empty chair. There was someone missing from this party. Someone important, and it cut the hole inside me a little bit wider.
“It’s okay, Quinn,” Lily whispered as she led me to a chair, the others already digging into the cake, “Things will work out in the end. They always do. You’ll see.”
I looked up at my friend, seeing the certainty in her blue eyes but I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure at all. But I did know one thing. I had to make this bed and breakfast a success. Not just for me, not just for everyone who had helped me, but for the life growing inside me.
"We'll see." I finally said, echoing Lily's words and she nodded serenely. She started to walk towards the cake and the raucous group, but stopped mid-step, turning back to me with an odd look on her face.
“Everything happens for a reason, Quinn.”
“Oh yeah? And why is this happening, oh wise one.” I snorted, my words sarcastic but softened with a small smile.
Lily shrugged, “Maybe it’s a lesson you need to learn. Or Jonah. Or maybe it’s something Leo has to discover on his own. But whatever it is, you’re stronger than you ever think you were Quinn. Remember that.”
I watched her walk away, her words turning over in my head. It all sounded like nonsense to me, but she was right about one thing at least. I was stronger than I ever realized. I wrapped my hands protectively around the baby inside me, the baby I already loved more than life itself. I had to be. Not for myself, but for my child.
Chapter 31
Leo
I packed the last of my few belongings back into the duffel bag and looked around the small, dingy motel room. I’d stayed in worst places in my lifetime of drifting but I’d sure as hell stayed in better ones too. I wasn’t sad to see the Sunrise Motel in my rearview mirror.
I flinched at the thought. Every time I saw that big sign outside, the logo with the golden sun, its rays spreading out over a lake of blue, it reminded me of her. Her. That’s how I had to think of her now. If I thought of her name it sent a blinding wave of pain through me and all I could think of
was turning around and heading back to Coral Springs one more time. Just to try and find her. See her. Talk to her.
You already tried asshole, remember?
I flinched at the painful reminder. It hadn't exactly gone as I'd hoped. Not at all like I had hoped, actually, and ever since that night, I felt like my life was spinning out of control and there was nothing I could do about it.
I’d gone back to the small town with my tail tucked between my legs and after a little bit of begging had got my bartending job back. But nothing felt right anymore. Food tasted like dirt in my mouth and all the beer in the world couldn’t quench my thirst. Believe me, I’d tried to drown my sorrows those first few days after with as much alcohol as I could but nothing could banish the image of Quinn with another man.
The only thing I could think of was to pack up and leave. Put as much distance between us as possible. Maybe then I’d finally find some peace. Maybe then I’d finally be able to outrun the truth.
You love her, you son of a bitch. No amount of miles is going to change that. Might as well resign yourself to that fact.
I tried to ignore the thought but damned if it didn't hit me right in the fucking gut. It had taken me losing her to realize it, but I was in love with Quinn Moore. Maybe I always had been and had just been too blind to see it, but now that I knew it, the knowledge flashed like a neon sign in my head. Unavoidable. Impossible to ignore.
I loved Quinn, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. The fact was, I'd never meet anyone like her for the rest of my life, but that thought was little comfort in the cold, lonely motel room. That's why I had to leave. I had to get away.